


Remember me?

by Lila17



Category: The Reckoners - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Gen, Missing Scene, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lila17/pseuds/Lila17
Summary: Originally, his name was Paul Jackson.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Remember me?

That stupid kid.

That stupid,  _ stupid  _ kid.

Paul sat outside the principal’s office, digging his hands into the hard plastic of the chair. He’d always known that something was off about him, different from the bossy know-it-alls who tried to lecture him but stepped back at the slightest threat. That kid wasn’t in it for any kind of reputation- he was just too stupid for his own good. New member on the varsity team with no idea how this team actually functioned.

He remembered swinging a punch at Christopher, not even thinking about it. Why sparking not? He’d had a shitty week. And Chris had made fun of him when he  _ knew  _ not to do that, so he’d had it coming.

Except then that kid had darted in the way at the last moment. Not even hesitating. What a dumb kid- Paul had always watched him a little more than normal, from the feeling that he would try to pull something like that. And the kid just stood there with a bleeding nose and the audacity to say,  _ Why’d you do that? _

Christopher had scrambled to his feet and ran. He never tried that normally, because he knew that Paul was  _ faster  _ than him. But whatever. He’d track Chris down eventually.

_ Because I can, twerp. Now buzz off before I wreck the rest of your face. _

The kid just stood there and scowled.  _ No. If I leave, are you going to hurt one of them instead? _ He gestured towards the other members of the track team, split between trying to back up as much as practically possible and trying to make it look like they were doing normal things. He snorted.

_ No. Chris bothered me, the slontze had it coming,  _ he sneered.  _ Just like you’re bothering me. Don’t you want to run, kid? _

He felt the adrenaline and satisfaction spiking up in his veins. His fight with Chris hadn’t gone down right, but this was a suitable replacement, weird-ass loner kid aside. Paul hoped that he ran. It was better when they ran, just to see the look on their faces when he caught them.

But the kid just planted his feet and crossed his arms.

_ No. I’m not afraid of you. _

——————————————————————-

According to the mom, he’d beaten the kid within an inch of his life. Paul was pretty sure that was an exaggeration.

But he was here. The kid had actually reported him. And for the first time in years, he was actually  scared worried. He’d made a mistake.

The mom wanted him out of the school immediately for what he’d done, and the kid (Paul was annoyed to learn that his name was Eric) agreed. He’d tensed when Paul had first walked into the room, but then he’d stared at him without breaking eye contact. Stupid slontze thought that just because they were in a room full of adults, he was as good as invincible. 

(And he was right.)

They argued for his expulsion as hard as they could, and Eric even managed to get Chris to back him up. Then everyone else started speaking up too. Sparking fucking  _ slontzes _ .

But in the end, the state meet was coming up in a month and Paul had qualified with a real chance at some titles, and the school didn’t want to “cut short a promising young athlete’s future” for “one mistake”. The kid’s family and friends were pissed to oblivion, but Paul stayed in the school and on the team.

But things changed. Paul couldn’t take a fucking step towards anyone anymore without them pulling out their phones to record the evidence that would get him kicked out for good. They finally had power in their hands and they knew it.

He got silver in the 400 meters. He was bright, he was promising. 

None of his teachers would write him a letter of recommendation.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ten years later, it was the school he came for first. He blew it to rubble, not even bothering to touch down. Goodbye, stupid teachers. Goodbye, stupid principal that was smart enough to keep him on the team but not much else. Goodbye, stupid old track. He’d left all of that behind.

He spent the next week tracking down every member of the track team that he’d ever talked to and murdering them in their beds. Some of them had guns, but the bullets just bounced off him as he laughed. This was meant to happen, he knew it. Why else would it be  _ him _ ?

This was what his life had been building towards all these years. This was preordained. Destiny.

He saved the best for last, flying to Eric’s house in the middle of the night. Eric lived alone now, and he doubted that Eric owned any weapons besides. How pathetic. He blasted the top off the house and flew inside, locating the bedroom.

Eric was already awake and on his feet when he arrived, shaking. “I don’t own much, just take whatever you want-“

“Eric. It’s been a while, how are you doing?” He said pleasantly.

Eric stopped, confused. “How do you- how do you know my name?“

“It’s Paul Jackson. Remember me?” His hands lit up like bombs, like torches, like something beautiful. Eric sucked in a breath and stumbled back with eyes wide.

He raised his hand. And in the moment before he blasted, he finally saw what he’d always wanted to see:

Fear.

**Author's Note:**

> I picked the names “Eric” and “Hudson” separately of each other, and at complete random. Apparently that’s a real-ass famous person? Whoops
> 
> Comment plzz


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